13. Open Understanding

“Hi, Emily,” I said with mock, or rather forced, enthusiasm- I still hadn’t quite mastered the skill of treating people as allies and not enemies I was still watching my back but I could sort of pretend to trust and maybe that would be enough

“Hi, Claire. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“Quil asked me to explain this to you. You must be pretty confused, all the stuff we’ve been saying, huh?”

“Yeah” with all the things that didn’t fit into the world doctors and death threats and Quil killed him how could Quil kill him when Quil was just my Quil and he, he was a nightmare and so much more Sam giving orders and unquestioning obedience and Quil’s hot hand, burning but not sweating, and so many other little things…

“Well… you might not believe this. Not right away, anyway. I… I didn’t, not at first. Quil, and Sam, and Embry and all the guys- and Leah, too… they aren’t people quite like you and me. You see, they’re werewolves.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

She didn’t seem to believe me. “Why wouldn’t I?” Because if I could trust her I could trust her, if she was telling the truth when she said I was safe she was telling the truth when she said this now.

“It’s… hard for people to accept, that the person they lo… that the person they know so well turns into an animal.”

“A wolf?”

“A big, big wolf. Sam’s a black wolf.” She smiled, stretching her hands further than they could go to show the size she was describing

“What about Quil?” He was the most important because Quil was somehow mine, my protector… my friend, the one I could trust I didn’t feel quite comfortable with the whole idea but it was definitely the truth

“Brown. Like chocolate,” she added and I laughed

“Cause he’s so sweet!”

“You should have met him before he impr- before he met you, Claire. He was not… well, not exactly a sweetie. He’s grown up a lot. He used to be a goofball. Evidently, being a werewolf does a lot to mature a fellow.”

“So how do they change? With the moon?” I hadn’t seen many stories I was just dredging this up from memory of books and movies and rumors and other girls telling scary tales in those little circles of friendship I never quite belonged to

“No… when they get angry.” Emily’s fingers drifted, without conscious thought, to the great scars marring her cheek, fingertips gently touching the scars.

“Was… was that…”

I didn’t know how to ask the question.

“Yeah. Sam.”

“I’m sorry.”

“God.” She rolled her eyes “I only hear that from him every three seconds. Guilt, Claire, is an extremely unattractive emotion.”

I stood for a moment in silence, and then embraced her, Emily, one of my two friends in the whole wide world and we laughed together about the craziness of this world we lived in for some strange reason